


Dressing Up

by Transposable_Element



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Advice, Body Image, Clothing, Gen, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-03 21:03:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15826890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transposable_Element/pseuds/Transposable_Element
Summary: Irene gives Helen some advice on how to dress.Not written as Irene/Helen, but you can read it that way if you like.





	Dressing Up

**Author's Note:**

> > _The queen of Eddis tended to stand like a soldier. The ruffles on her shoulders made her arms seem long enough to reach to her knees...._
>> 
>> _…She was wearing a green shot silk dress that squeezed her under the arms and made her look like a peahen dressed up in her smaller husband’s clothes…In her five-year reign she’d won the loyalty and love of her subjects. They thought she was beautiful, I told her, and they would be just as happy to see her in a sack as in the elaborate costumes her dressers liked to bully her into._
>> 
>> _\-- The Thief, Chapter 12_

The broken glass had been swept up and the marriage negotiations were almost complete. By now the two queens were quite comfortable with each other, and they walked in the garden together almost every afternoon.

One afternoon Attolia turned to her counterpart and asked a question that had clearly been troubling her for some time: “Who dresses you?”

“My cousins Kallos and Abbiah. Why?”

“They must have something against you. Did you quarrel as children?”

“What’s wrong with—“

“Ruffles? Frills? They don’t suit you, my dear.”

“What else should I wear?”

“You’re a warrior queen! You should dress like one.”  
  
“But I’m not really a w—“

“You could be.”

Helen considered this. It was out of character for Attolia to joke, but not impossible. On the other hand, if there was one thing Attolia knew how to do well (actually, as Helen could now admit to herself, there were many things that Attolia did well) it was create a powerful image for herself. “What do you suggest?” she asked.

“You need fabrics with some weight. Silver embroidery or knotwork to suggest armor. Maybe even some leather. You should wear a sword.”

“I can’t wear a sword all the time!”

“True,” Attolia conceded. “But in any circumstances in which a king would wear a sword, you should wear one.”

“People say I carry myself like a soldier. Everybody already thinks I’m too mannish,” Helen grumbled.

“You will not be mannish. You will be strong. You will be beautiful,” Attolia promised. And then, since Helen seemed unconvinced: "Come, we will take your measure. A new gown to wear to the wedding will be my gift to you."

 

 

About ten days later, Attolia invited Helen to her apartments to try on the new dress. Her attendants were rather more brisk and efficient than Helen was used to, but still she fidgeted while they labored over her.

The fine linen underdress was a warm brown, remarkably close to the color of her skin, with long, fitted sleeves. The satin overskirt fell in dozens of tiny pleats into a narrow silhouette almost like a column. The bodice was embroidered with silver and gold in a design that suggested flames.

“…and the heavy bodice contrasts with the sleeves to suggest a breast plate,” Attolia was saying.

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. Uncover the mirror.”

Attolia’s attendants uncovered the mirror. Helen looked.

She wasn’t pretty. She would never be pretty. But this was almost the first time she could remember looking in a mirror and liking what she saw.

The bodice emphasized her broad shoulders and strong arms, instead of trying to disguise them. She walked across the room and found that the skirt easily accommodated her long stride, swirling out dramatically and then falling demurely back into its pleats when she came to a halt.

“You see?” asked Irene after a moment or two.

“Yes, I think I do…”

"Now for the sword," Irene said. The attendants brought forth a leather scabbard and sword belt, cleverly tooled in the same design of flames as the bodice. All Helen could see of the sword itself was its hilt, which she was relieved to see looked functional rather than decorative.

"It's a proper Eddisian sword. I got some expert advice," said Irene. Helen wondered. Surely Irene hadn't approached the Minister of War. Ornon, perhaps? Or Eugenides himself?

The attendants fastened the belt around Helen's waist. She turned again to the mirror. A warrior queen stared back at her. Not mannish, no: not with the sword belt arranged to emphasize her hips.

"Now, tell me truthfully: what do you think?"

"It's splendid," said Helen. 

Irene nodded, pleased. "Bracelets," she said, snapping her fingers. "We're not half done yet."

**Author's Note:**

> At some point between _The Queen of Attolia_ and _A Conspiracy of Kings_ , Helen changed her look:
>
>> _Eddis was waiting for him on a carved seat by the window. She stood. Her dress was of linen as fine as his own. It had an overdress decorated in knotted cord and a waist of satin covered in tiny beads in the same pattern as the knots._
>> 
>> _\-- A Conspiracy of Kings, Chapter 21._


End file.
